French Photograph For Francis
by ilfreitas
Summary: There are about five photos Francis cherishes over all others and that he refuses to share or give away to anyone, and at least three of them a certain Brit would love to destroy if he knew of their existence. Fruk
1. French Photography For Francis

Disclaimer: I own nothing. ...Oh, you thought I did? Uh. I wish...

**French Photography For Francis**

There are about five photos Francis cherishes over all others and that he refuses to share or give away to anyone.

There are few hobbies he loves more than photography and it's rare to see the French without his Nikon camera hanging on his neck.

One of those pictures is of his first girlfriend, at the age of six, Joanne, running to him, he still can hear her calling him to climb a tree and play pirates. It was taken four days before she went to England and never came back.

Then there's a picture of a small teenage boy, with messed blond hair and a pair of bushy eyebrows frowning at the camera, even if when Francis looks at the photo long enough he finds the green eyes – green like no other – telling a different, happier story.

The next photo was taken on one of the last times he had time to go to a bar, with his two best friends, Gilbert and Antonio, and the latter's boyfriend, new and finally his at the time.

He was the closest to the camera, with a frown and green eyes, that although darker than the one he – very unfortunately, in his own opinion, he could do so much better than that (but at the same time no, he thinks there is no better choice he could have made, unconsciously or not, since he's just that good) – learnt to love. That and the Italian's attitude made the French try to get closer to him, reminding him of someone he hadn't seen in a long time by then.

Hugging him closely is Antonio, he too with green eyes, but unlike the other two owners of such colour, he smiles brightly and happily, easily, as he usually does. And next to him, looking to something outside – and Francis chuckles every time he looks at it, because he knows it's Elizabeta the albino is staring at, but then Francis just looks at it sadly, realizing over again he is in the same situation the self-proclaimed Prussian is – is Gilbert, with a love stick yet cautious expression on his face.

For how unlikely it seems, the following picture wasn't taken by himself, but for once he appears on it. With him there's his nephew – unfortunately the boy's parents had died when he was small – who Francis had been taking care of, making Mathew like a son to him, and a remembrance of Francis' lovely sister, with his soft attitude and wavy hair. They're at Francis' _pâtisserie_, sitting at a table and waving at the camera, and Francis still smiles remembering who was holding it.

And the last addiction to the collection Francis takes when he makes a break at the _pâtisserie_ and joins one of his usual costumers at his table, but the other still doesn't notice his presence and Francis, as if in a trance, lifts his camera and takes a picture, wanting to keep forever for himself that rare happy and peaceful look Arthur has in that moment, a small smile reaching his lips instead of only his unique green eyes, while without any frown he reads, one hand on his cup of tea.

The moment doesn't last, as soon as the camera snaps, announcing the photograph was taken, the frown returns and the English yells and demands Francis to erase it 'right now, you bloody frog!'

"Ah, _mon cher_, but you were looking so good~" Francis can't help but to say and he loves the small blush Arthur holds because of it and the need to take another photo emerges, but he suppresses it to smile "but if you insist," he adds when he notices the other "anything for you_, mon amour_..."

"Don't say embarrassing things like that, you sod! People will think we're together!" Arthur shrinks in his chair and crosses his arms, turning his face away from Francis.

The French just smiles and goes to the photo gallery in his camera, erases a beautiful picture he had taken the day before of the street where his _pâtisserie_ was, so the camera would make the right noise and Arthur believe he had really deleted the right one.

"I erased it, Arthur."

"Good."

And slowly Arthur turns to him again and Francis just hopes next time he takes a picture of his lovely Brit they really are together, and Arthur is spread naked across his bed, panting with the need of some French love making.

Ah, yes, that would be _très magnifique_

**000**

**Hello~ I was thinking of continuing this AU (I really like it...pastry owner/chef!Francis is...I dunno, but I like it. So, would you like if I wrote more of this? (and it will be Fruk, no doubt in that xD)**

**This is also the first time I write something on Francis's POV, do you think it's correct?**

**Thank you for reading~**


	2. Another Anniversary Arrives

Disclaimer: I own nothing. ...Oh, you thought I did? Uh. I wish...

**AN: So, hum, continuing, thanks for requesting it :D This takes place **_**before**_** the last chapter, just warning this may happen often. I'll warn, of course, but until some point I'll just post stuff from random times …about Fruk, of course. Because, you know, that's what this is about.**

**Another Anniversary Arrives As Arthur Awakes **

It's with the sound of his alarm clock that Arthur wakes up on a dark room.

His usual routine by now would be to sigh, turn off the alarm, get up and hurry to leave, but not this time.

This time Arthur turns to lie on his back, hands together on his stomach, and looks at the ceiling, everything quiet expect for the alarm.

Buzzing noises and small whispers suddenly come from another room and Arthur returns to the routine. Sighs. Shuts off the alarm. Gets up.

He drags himself to the bathroom and looks at himself at the mirror. He washes his face, brushes his teeth and tries to flatten his hair, but knows it's a lost cause. After taking a piss and washing his hands he returns to his bedroom, where he opens his window and gets dressed.

Then he stops and looks at the door. He knows he'll have to hear them once he gets out of the room, but he also can't stay in there all day, he has work to do, even if he can delay it until the afternoon.

So he opens the door and closes his eyes, preparing for them to crowd him.

"Arthur!"

"Arthur!"

The fairies soon do all fly around him, smiling brightly.

"Happy birthday, Arthur!" Flying Mint Bunny says, he too all over him.

"Thank you." Arthur smiles back, even if just a little bit, as he is unable to do the contraire in their presence.

He walks to the kitchen, the magical folk follow him, and before he can open the refrigerator they stop him.

"You should go out today, Arthur!"

"No, thank you." He answers quickly "I'd rather spend my day here with you."

"It's your birthday, Arthur!" one small fairy with red locks of hair pulls him by his sleeve out of the kitchen "Go out!"

The Gnome pushes him by the legs to the front door, "Didn't you just say a new pastry shop opened a few days ago?"

"Yes, but I don't see why-" he struggles.

"Arthur!" a blue fairy hovers right in front of his face "You should go there!"

"But I don't want to!" Arthur blinks in surprise – they usual aren't that insistent.

"Just this once! Go eat your breakfast there!"

Flying Mint Bunny opens the door and the Gnome and three fairies pull him out of his flat. "Hey!" he gets up, the door being closed at his face once he reaches it.

"We'll only let you in if you do go there, Arthur!" they say in chorus, their voices coming muffled from the other side of the door.

"It _is_ my birthday," he says the last word in a low tone, looking around to be sure none of his neighbours heard it "shouldn't I have a say in this?"

"No!"

Arthur sighs as he hears the giggles coming from his own place and he turns around, walking away.

He does go to out to the street and he does walk into the right direction – the pastry the fairies had been talking about was just around the corner – but he doesn't have any intentions of going where they demanded him to, he'll just walk by and burn some time to seem like he had been there.

He looked at his left and now he can see the pastry clearly and not just as a rush of colours as he quickly walks by as he usually does.

He stops in front of it and looks at it, actually paying attention to the pastry shop. The shop window is full of cakes and biscuits, and Arthur can smell the just made bread and sweets that comes from inside.

Perhaps...perhaps he should go in. After all, the fairies are magical being that will know if he indeed went in or not. He better get in if he wants to return to his flat later.

Convincing himself that was the reason, and not because it does smell quite good and he is hungry, Arthur steps in the pastry, looking around for something to eat.

There the smell is even heavier and Arthur can feel his stomach complain with hunger while he gets even more undecided, noticing all the more things he has to choose from.

Frowning again he walks to the cashier and waits for someone to come so he can request his choice, the only thing that is satisfying him is there is no other clients in there.

Five minutes later he's still there, waiting, and he finally locates the bell, which he rings.

He hears two voices speaking from the door behind the counter, then some steps and the door opens, letting out a child with light brown and wavy hair, violet eyes and the strangest fringe, curling right in front of the boy's face.

"Hello." The boy mutters.

"Good morning," Arthur answers politely, the frown vanishing. "What's your name?"

"Mathew, sir."

"Shouldn't be your father here to answer his clients, Mathew?" Arthur asks, worried for the kid.

"_Papa_ is in the kitchen, watching over the oven. Do you want me to call him?"

"No, that's quite alright." Arthur reassures him "I'll have a toast and a cup of tea, if you please."

The boy nods and returns to the kitchen, on the other hand Arthur walks to a table and sits down.

He taps the table with his fingertips, until the boy returns with a plate containing two toasts and a cup of tea, which he puts on the table.

"Thank you," Arthur says, before grabbing one of the toasts and biting it.

_Oh Lord_.

His eyes widen as the taste fills his mouth and the texture that is perfect and he had never thought a toast could taste that good. He didn't know heaven could be on a toast.

"Lad," he calls Mathew again, right when the boy is about to leave "I'm Arthur. Pleasure to meet you." He extends his hand, which the boy shakes "You can expect me to come here often." He says before drinking the tea – it isn't that bad, but he can make one better than that. But with how bloody good toast tastes he's sure he can manage some average tea.

He continues to eat calmly, enjoying the taste, the smell of the pastry shop, the silence from the lack of costumers and is pleased to note that the soft blue tone on the walls doesn't hurt his eyes.

He must thank the fairies later for finding him such a good place for him to get used too.

When Arthur finishes his meal, Mathew is putting more biscuits on display, and Arthur signals him he wants to pay.

"_Papa_!" Mathew calls "_Papa_!"

"Coming, coming!"

Arthur looks over as the door to the kitchen opens and a man steps out of it, cleaning flour off his hands on his apron.

"What is it, _Mathieu_?" he asks.

Mathew points to Arthur and the man notices him for the first time, his smile changing into the same shocked expression Arthur holds.

"Arthur?" he asks, his blue eyes widening and then blinking.

"Francis..." Arthur lets out "W-what are you doing in England, you frog? Missing me, are you?" he laughs.

"Of course not!" Francis flips his hair back "I have just come to show the Englishmen how real food is like. You just had a taste of it."

"It was just a toast, git!" Arthur says quickly, dismissing what he had been thinking earlier about it. He gets up and digs into his pocket for money "And the tea wasn't good at all."

Both of them stop for a moment, wondering how can they just return to their usual quarrels after not seeing each other for five years, but it soon vanishes, too busy thinking of comebacks to actually appreciate it.

"However you drank it all." Francis lifts his chin and looks down at Arthur.

Arthur walks closer to Francis "It was like drinking hot water."

"_Pardon_, I forgot you silly Englishmen can only appreciate hot water with herbs on it."

"But, _Papa_, we drink tea all the time. You say it brings good memories..." Mathew says softly from the front of the pastry.

Both adults turn to look at him – they had forgotten his presence.

"_Mathieu_, could you please go check the baguettes?" Francis asks with a smile.

Mathew understands the dismissal and goes to the kitchen.

"You had a kid?" Arthur asks "I always warned you about it, didn't I?"

"Arthur, we both know I don't get on with the opposite sex..."

"I know you'd get on with anything that moves."

"_Non_, _lapin_, I just appreciate what is beautiful..." he too stepped closer to the other.

"And anything that moves is beautiful to you, isn't it?" Arthur smirks.

"Arthur, your eyebrows move and they're the most hideous thing I have ever seen."

Arthur frowns deeply and pulls his money out "How much is it, Frog?"

Francis raises an eyebrow with a smile and points to the menu, right next to the counter.

Arthur counts his money "Well, it looks I don't have enough," he says, handing what he as to Francis "It just means I'm paying less because of the lack of quality of the tea."

"_Non_. It means you'll pay the rest when you return here." Francis closed his hand over the money.

Arthur looks up to him, surprised. Francis wants him to return? A bit stunned, he just nods and turns around, leaving the store without a goodbye.

As he's reaching the door Francis glances to the calendar and raises both eyebrows, a smile reaching his lips "Happy birthday, _rosbif_!"

Arthur flinches and walks without adding anything else, closing the door behind him and returning to his flat mumbling all the way about the stupidity of frogs.

When he knocks on his own door to get in, he is unsure of how will he react when seeing the fairies – he has a feeling he'll want to yell and smash them.

"Arthur!" the Gnome opens the door and steps aside to allow him in.

"How did it go?"

"Did you like it?"

"We did well, didn't we?"

And they're all smiling at him and Arthur realizes what have they done – they took his loneliness from him by showing him that something from his past was back.

Just around the corner.

"Thank you," he whispers, smiling "thank you."

When the afternoon came and he sat on his desk to work, was with new found inspiration that Arthur wrote.

Still smiling.

00000

**Alright, I don't know if it got explicit enough, but the only company Arthur had until this point were the magical folk, so finding a reason to get with people again is...well. just is. xD**


	3. Matthew Makes Mama MoreManly

Disclaimer: I own nothing. ...Oh, you thought I did? Uh. I wish...

**AN: This happens...about 3 or 4 weeks after the last chapter.**

**Matthew Makes Mama More...**_**Manly**_

"How old are you, Matthew?" Arthur asks one late afternoon, sharing a table with the young boy as both eat a snack, after a day spent working for the former and studying for the latter.

Francis keeps wiping the floor quietly and looks over to the table to see the conversation.

"I'm this years old." Matthew says in his soft tone, showing up five fingers "but in two months, I'll be this years old!" he raises his other hand to show another finger.

"My, you're all grown up, aren't you, puppet?" Arthur smiles at him and Francis itches to get his camera from under his counter and snap a picture of both of them.

He wouldn't trust Arthur with mostly anything, but he knows the soft spot the British has for children, so Francis lets him talk with Matthew and enjoys the rare sight that is Arthur showing affection.

Five years, he muses, feelings he had five years ago are emerging and returning, and he's not sure if that's a good thing. If it wasn't back then, why should it be now?

But he looks to the boy he loves more than anything talking – actually talking with someone who isn't him (because phone talks with his loud American cousin doesn't count, Alfred does all the talking, and in the end who pays the bill for it is Francis), which by itself it proves the gift Arthur has for kids – to one of the most annoying and oldest friend he ever had and Francis can't help but to smile and allow the warm feeling in his stomach to fill him with joy.

"Yes!" Matthew smiles "And I'll be going to the first grade, and then I'll be able to read your stories!"´

"I'll dedicate my next book to you, lad." Arthur is beaming with the interest the boy has over his tales, and looks up to Francis.

Francis is not sure if it means 'To you too, Frog' or 'Don't think even for a moment you'll have the same treatment', but he smiles at Arthur anyway.

He lets them talk for a little longer – until he has wiped the whole pastry –, gets his camera and walks to them.

"Mathieu, don't you think it's time for you to do your homework?" he asks.

Matthew's face drops as Francis interrupts the tale of the adventure he had that day at school he was telling, and turns to him with a pout "But, Papa..."

"Homework?" Arthur asks, putting the cup of tea back on the table.

"Y-yes." He answers.

"Don't let me keep it from you, Matthew! Don't delay what you can do now." Arthur says and Matthew nods and leaves to the apartment upstairs, where he lives with Francis.

Only then Francis joins Arthur at the table, sitting next to him and putting carefully his camera on the table.

They just sit in silence for a bit, until Arthur decides he had enough of it.

"He's almost six. You had him before you left." He brings the cup back to his lips and drinks "Why didn't I know of him at the time? N-not that I really care, you git, I'm just curious! A-and thinking about how unlucky the poor bird who slept with you is!"

"I told you about Matthew." Francis says, choosing to ignore the last comment.

"I would remember if you had told me you were a father, Frog." Arthur mumbles with a slight growl.

"I told you I had a nephew, didn't I?" Francis makes a sad smile "My sister's son."

"Madeleine?" Arthur's eyes widen "What happened?"

"Car accident. That's why I left England. Matthew was only one year old, and I refused to let anyone else raise him but me."

And now Arthur is at loss, staring at him and Francis can see how his hand twitches to cover the French's one, that lies on the table next to his camera, but curls it up in a fist instead. "I'm sort. She...was a very kind and sweet. Unlike you." He adds, but both know he doesn't mean it.

Francis chuckles and tries to lighten up the mood a bit – it pains him to think of his sister, but he has accepted her fate long ago – by leaning closer to Arthur by supporting his height on the arm he had on the table and poking Arthur's forehead, right between his eyebrows "Don't frown so much, rosbif, it makes your caterpillars even uglier."

Arthur just snaps his hand away and frowns even more. "As if you were able to talk, with a face like yours!"

"My face?" Francis smirks, flipping his hair back "You must mean you want a face like mine."

"As if I'd ever want that!" Arthur gets up and digs some coins out of his pocket, throwing them onto the table "I'm going, can't stand your annoying presence anymore."

Francis looks at the table and counts the money before turning his eyes to Arthur as he dresses his jacket.

The Englishman has a thought look in his eyes and Francis opens his mouth to inquire about it when the other decides to speak.

"Why does he call you Papa?"

Francis closes his mouth and both look at each other in silence for a moment.

Arthur sighs "Forget I asked." He turns around and walks away.

"He doesn't remember his parents." Francis says when Arthur grabs the door handle "I insisted on him to call me uncle, brother, anything else. But he needs a father and...I can't help but to feel like I am."

Arthur has his backs to him and once again silence remains. Then Arthur opens the door and gets out of the pastry, closing the door behind him and going away without looking back.

Francis isn't sure why he just told all that to him. Perhaps because of the old friendship they used to have? Because Arthur seemed to care for Matthew?

He rubs his forehead with two fingers and closes his eyes.

Perhaps it was because he actually needed to talk about it to someone.

He gets up and looks at the clock hanging on the wall. He feels like going upstairs and watch over Matthew as the boy does his homework, but he still has to keep the pastry opened for another two hours.

He gets up, looks out to the street and finally gives up. He goes behind the counter and pulls out a cardboard placard. He hangs it on the door and closes it.

He goes to his apartment upstairs and doesn't regret his decision when he's greeted with Matthew's eyes turning to him with clear happiness and a smile on his face as he calls him "Papa! Look at this drawing I made!"

"What is it, cher?"

And as Francis swoops him into his arms and listens to his nephew's story he could only wish to have decided to make a bigger pause than ten minutes.


	4. Jerk's Juvenile's Jape

Disclaimer: I own nothing. ...Oh, you thought I did? Uh. I wish...

**AN: This happens way later than the previous chapter, just so you know.**

**Jerk's Juvenile's Jape**

Arthur stares at his fridge with a frown and deep in thoughts.

"What is it, Arthur?" Fainne, a fire fairy, asks him, floating around on top of the fridge, then sitting on it and peeking down to it's door, where Arthur keeps his gaze locked.

Arthur doesn't answer and just keeps looking at it from behind the computer, which he was supposedly using where he sits at the table, using the arms on it to support his chin.

"Aaarthuuuur," Faine insists, and flies to stand between Arthur and the fridge "Is this what's troubling you?" she points at what's stuck on the fridge with an iman "but it's adorable!"

Arthur's frowns deepens and he just leans to his left, so Faine won't block his view.

"This one is you, right? And that one is Francis. And that's-"

"I think fnsnfd just arrived." Arthur interrupts her "Why don't you check if he's at the window?"

Fainne blushes and rushes off to the living room, leaving Arthur alone to his musings.

Arthur suddenly extends his arm to grab the picture, but then retreats it.

He...maybe he should talk about it with someone. Not Francis, obviously, that would be too embarrassing.

He looks at the computer screen once again and decides to stick with the usual plan.

He logs in on Messanger and is glad to notice that the person he was looking for is online as well.

"Hello, Afonso." He says as he types it.

Afonso was one of the oldest friends he had, and he knew he could count on him to back him up since they were young. Afonso had come to university in London and they studied together, but after that he returned to his country, Portugal, where he had been living in since then.

They didn't see each other so often because of the distance between them, but they still spoke to each other regularly via Internet.

'Hey, Artur!'

Arthur's eyebrow twitched, as it always did when Afonso insisted on calling him by the Portuguese version of his name.

'What's the matter? Is that French idiota bothering you again?'

'_No, not this time.'_

'_It's...'_

Arthur looks up from the computer to the fridge's door again, to once more stare at the source of his problem and doesn't find it there.

"Where did..."

"Arthur!" Flying Mint Bunny flies into the kitchen, looking distressed.

Arthur's shoulder's drop "It's him again, isn't it?"

"I'm so sorry, Arthur! I tried to stop him!"

Arthur sighs and rubs his forehead, preparing himself for exactly what came next.

"Ahahahah! Look at this, it's Jerk Arthur!"

Arthur, not feeling at all up for those games, returns to the computer again, seeing what Afonso had written meanwhile.

'it's?'

'what? what is it?'

'tell me'

'I demand you to!'

'...arthuuuuuuur~'

Arthur shakes his head and types '_Well, now I can't show you, Peter took it from me.'_

'Peter?'

'oh, right, your poltergheist'

'*poltergeist'

He had gotten a low price on the flat he lived in because it was said to be haunted. And from day one Arthur knew it was true. Peter, the poltergeist living in it, had been delighted to know Arthur could see him, and so doubled his efforts to kick him out. From the constant yelling about making the flat his own land and him being the king of it, Arthur deduced that Peter wanted the place free from humans. Especially him.

"Who are these other two? Jerk, you don't have any friends, right?" Peter runs into the kitchen, smiling wickedly as he holds the paper in one hand "And why are you fat dogs?"

"Those are bears, you twit!" Arthur reaches out and takes the paper from him, staring at it once more.

'_I got it again.'_

'_This time it wasn't Francis, but his kid.'_

'I thought yu liked him'

'*you'

'_He made a drawing. With him, Francis and I. Like the drawings kids do about their families.'_

'_Except that we're all polar bears.'_

'lolololol he adopted you! ahahhaa xDDD'

Arthur glares at the screen before realizing that he has no comeback for that. It_ did_ look like Matthew had added him into his small family.

'_Oh shut it, you.'_

And with that he returns his attention to the drawing. There were three polar bears in it. The first was Francis, with a rectangle with a circle inside that Arthur thinks it's a camera hanging on his neck, besides the girly hair on top of his head. In the middle there's the smallest polar bear, with glasses and a curl of hair big enough to cover part of his face. And on his right there's another polar bear, as tall as the first, with several lines above his eyes that Arthur grumpily assumes it's his eyebrows.

They're all holding hands.

Francis had been as surprised as he was when Matthew gave him the drawing, and they shared a look, agreeing for once on something. _This won't do_.

Arthur was flattered from getting the drawing, it was, looking at it gave him a warm feeling and made him want to smile.

But Matthew was adopting him, and that would just end up in disaster.

But apparently he had warmed up to the boy as the boy had done to him, because Arthur couldn't find it in his hear the will to stop him.

He doesn't want to hurt him.

Arthur's at loss of what to do.


End file.
